Eye of the Beholder
by BadWolfOfCamelot
Summary: She practically fell out of the sky and into his life. Some call her a monster, most call her some slightly less pleasant words, but he knows that beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Rated for Taz's mouth.
1. Quinceañera from Hell

Friday, June 13, 3124.

"Myria, I look like a flower store threw up on me." She whined, pulling at a rose on her cream dress, which she loathed with a deep passion.

"_No se metan con él_!" ordered the tall Latina, fluffing out the dress once more on the tiny girl standing before her. Arms crossed and a scowl set on her face, a face many complained was much too pale to be normal for a Mexican. Not that anyone would ever dare say that to her face. "One last touch, Tanabeth," grinned Myria, pushing a rose into the soft dark curls of the no-longer-a-child before her.

"Why," inquired Tanabeth, "do jou have to make such a big fuss over this_? Es sólo mi cumpleaños_," she huffed, staring at herself in the mirror with hatred. Tanabeth Angelina Zorro-Lopez in a fluffy dress with a rose in her hair was _not_ a sight you would normally see, and not one she ever wanted to see again.

"Tanabeth, _niña tonta_, this is jour _quinceanera! _Jou are _una mujer_, a woman now!" Myria stepped back and admired her work. After a long hour of fighting, whining, and begging, she had finally gotten her little sister into her old _quinceanera_ dress. It took another hour to tailor it to be two sizes smaller. "Jou look much better, jou little _muchachota_, always scrapping in the streets."

"_Sí_, but I'd much rather fight than look like a wedding cake topper." She muttered, absentmindedly pulling at a curl that just passed her shoulders.

"Don't touch!" Myria cried, swatting away Tanabeth's hand. Through the thin floor, a shrill voice cried,

"_Myria, Tanabeth,__es el momento_!"

"_Sí, mamá_!" the called back in unison. A loud crash thundered in the distance, capturing both girls' attention. If only they had known then…

"Hmm, let's hope it does not rain," mutted Myria. "Oh! One last thing," she dove down under her bed, returning with a long red sash. She quickly wrapped tightly it around the _niña's_ waist, tying it in the back into a bow. "_Vamos_."

Tanabeth sighed and complied, reluctantly, as the two made their way out the door and down the stairs. "_Te odio por esto,_ jou know."

And those were the last words Myria ever heard.

A shrill scream cut through the air, followed by a small explosion that shook the entire house. Horror flittered over both girls faces' as they sped down the remainder of the stairs. There, lying dead on the floor was their mother, a camera still in her hands, horror etched forevermore on her face. Standing in the doorway was a cold, heartless, emotionless replication of life.

An autobot.

It raised its metal arm, a zapper where a hand should have been. Tanabeth, being the tiny shrimp she was, ducked and ran through its legs. Myria, at a height of 5' 7", 5' 9" with her heels on, was not as lucky. "NO!" screamed Tanabeth, watching as that _hijo de puta_…

Tears threatened to fall from her eyes, but she wouldn't let them. She turned and ran, picking up a rake as she did. Autobots, everywhere. Screams rang through the air as she watched friends and family, foes and strangers die all around her. Loved ones, gone; ripped right out of her heart. Coughing in the dust and mayhem, she broke off the head of the rake, leaving her holding a long wooden pole.

She turning, facing that damned autobot that had killed her family, her everything. Rage filled her veins; something sparked behind her eyes. Letting out a battle cry filled with passion and fire, she charged, sprinting at the autobot. Using the pole as a lever, she jumped, kicking the robot in its cold, metal face.

She dropped to the ground in a huff, blowing her hair out of her eyes as she watched its head spin. Growling, she raised the pole, and prepared for hell.

He was too late. It was three minutes since he had touched down on Earth and already, his entire team, and everyone else in the village, probably, was dead. He was alone, left with at least fifteen autobots. He pushed himself off the ground so he was on his hands and knees, glancing through the dust and smoke. Houses burning, corpses scattered without care in the streets, and no signs of life anywhere.

A high scream pierced the air, pulling his attention to somewhere to his left. Scrambling to his feet, he set his zapper to 'pew' before stealthily running after that horrible sound, a sound he had heard too many times before. Images of his family filled his head, but he pushed them away. He couldn't lose focus. There was someone left, someone alive. He intended on keeping them that way.

He heard it again, a high piercing noise that pulled at a heartstring. But it was different, slightly. It was filled with passion, not terror. Determination, not hopelessness. There, off the left, was a small girl in a torn dress, sitting on top of an autobot where shoulders would be. He blinked and squinted. She wasn't just sitting, he noted, she was pulling at its head. He watched in awe as she pulled it clean off, and stabbed it with a wooden pole.

Vertically.

Like hotdog, not hamburger.

It shook violently as she scrambled, trying to get off of it before it fell, but failing. He stood, frozen in place, watching as if in slow-motion, as she fell with the robot. It crashed to the ground, jerking him back to reality. He ran, searching in the dust for the girl, that brave little son of a bitch. He found her a few feet away from the rubble of the autobot, coughing and clutching her side gingerly. He bent down and brushed her hair out of her face. She turned to him, her chocolate eyes wide, her mouth slightly open.

He tried to put on a dead goddamned brave face, but how brave could he be at a time like this? "Are you alright?" he asked in his southern drawl. She nodded once before turning away from him, tugging off a red sash that was squeezing her waist, grabbed the wooden pole and using it to push herself up. He rose with her, only to find her walking off to a group of four autobots. "Where do you think you're going?" he called, taking three long strides to reach her. She spun around, reached up and pressed a small warm hand to his mouth.

"Shh!" she hushed desperately, feeling his stubble tickling her skin. Her eyes were in a rage as they met his confused crystal blue ones. "I'm going to go finish off those _hijos de puta_!" she smirked before silently running off, running to her possibly death.

"Not alone you're not." He muttered, pulling out his zapper and running after her.

Suddenly, he was in the air, in the claw of an autobot, his zapper pressed up against his back and he struggled to take a breath. He never thought he would die like this, chasing after a little Mexican girl. _**WHAM!**_ He fell to the ground, reaching for his zapper. Standing in front of him was that little girl, wooden staff raised, breathing heavily, bleeding. "Watch jou're back, ese." She warned, before turning on her bare foot and ran into the abyss.

"Where are you?" he called, squinting through the smoke, searching for the little stranger he felt compelled to save. He heard it again, that fierce battle cry. There was a flash of cream running before him, three loud crunches of wood hitting metal before another autobot fell with a crash. He looked down. Once again, she was standing in front of him.

"Jou want to help, idiota?" she gave him a push backwards with her dainty hands before running off at another group of robots. Mentally shaking himself, he grasped his zapper and headed off in the other direction towards a group of autobots.

_**PEW PEW PEW PEW PEW PEW**_

Six more down. Rage flowed his veins as he thought of the sons of bitches that had killed his family four years ago. He could never be rid of the image of his mother lying in the street, dead, as a Starship Ranger had taken pity on him and was leading him towards a drop pod. He remembered passing his father, dead, about ten feet away from his mother.

'_Wait,' he had said, pulling away from the Ranger. He took his father's bloody arm and dragged him carefully next to his mother, blinking away tears. 'There. At least they're together'. He looked up at the Ranger, who smiled sadly, wrapping an arm around him. _

'_It's ok,' the Ranger had told him, giving him a squeeze, 'everything will be ok.'_

"Take this,_hijo de_- AHHH!" a bloodcurdling scream echoed through the air. He whipped his head around, desperate to find the noise and stop it, and started running.

It was nothing he had ever seen before. There she was… that girl, that strange, badass little girl, tied up with the rope of a tire swing and hanging from a tree, spinning and weaponless, her wooden staff in one out of the three autobot's hand. He ran faster, breathing heavily as it raised the staff and…

She let out another scream, trying to fight them off, but only to have the air knocked out of her. He raised his zapper, but he didn't shoot. He didn't have a clear enough shot; he didn't want to shoot her. It raised the staff… She let out a small "oh!" before becoming limp.

"HEY! METAL BITCH!" he called. All three turned around as he raised his zapper.

_**PEW PEW PEW!**_

_**CRASH CRASH CRASH**_

Smirking at his success, he turned his attention towards the petite girl hanging limply from a tree. Being sure to stomp on the autobots, hard, he made his way over to her. He reached up, took her small shoulder in his calloused hand and gave her a shake. "Hey, c'mon. Get back up, c'mon." he muttered, desperately trying to wake her up.

He didn't know what it was about her, but there was no way in hell he was leaving her here if there was a chance she was alive. He searched her face for any sign of life, tracing a scar on her cheek, first with his eyes, then his thumb.

Slowly and painfully, her eyes flittered open. Brown met blue, fire met ice, and for a moment, two worlds collided and made one. He looked away, abashed. He turned his back on her, raised his zapped and 'pewed' the remaining robots. As they crashed to the ground he reached into his pocket, pulling out a switchblade. "Um, you have to cut yourself down." He reached up and pressed the knife into her hand. She gave him a reproachful look, an eyebrow cocked as she bit her lip. He smirked. "I'm gonna catch you." He held out his arms as if to prove himself.

With a noise somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, she slipped the blade under her stomach, and cut the rope. She tumbled into his outstretched arms, wrapping one arm around his neck, the other on his shoulder. For a moment far too brief, he studied her face. She was oddly pale for a Mexican and was framed by large, dark brown curls. She had cuts, bruises and dirt all over her face. She had big, brown, almond eyes.

Blue. His eyes were **blue.** Tanabeth, having grown up in such a small Mexican village, had never seen blue eyes before. They were… enchanting, to say the least. His hair was a messy light brown, ever so slightly flecked with grey. Scars were scattered lightly over his face and behind the stubble that covered his chin. He was bleeding profusely from a large cut on his cheek. Slowly, trance-like, she reached up a small hand and cupped his face, her thumb gently wiping away some of the blood. His eyes widened slightly; she pulled away, heat rising to her face. _Dios mío, ¿qué hay de malo en mí? _she thought.

"Jou- jou were bleeding." She muttered.

"Bleeding, right, yeah." He mumbled, shaking himself mentally and placing her down softly. He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. "C'mon." he started walking off in the direction of a hill on the outskirts of the village, if you could even call it that anymore. She quickly caught up to him, limping and trying to match his strides.

"What's with the getup?" he asked in a southern drawl. She scoffed, as though he asked why god was dead.

"Es mi _quinceañera_," she explained, stepping over a fallen robot, not caring if her dress ripped.

"Er, what?"

"Mi _quinceañera_. It's my fifteenth birthday, a celebration of becoming a woman. It's estupido, really." She clarified, look up to face him, only to find hind squatting down at the autobot that lay right in front of her house. They same one who had- no, she couldn't think of that now. He stood up, holding the red sash that she had pulled off earlier.

"Taz."

"What?" she stepped over to see what he was pointing at; a tag stitched into the fabric. She snatched the sash out of his hands.

_T.A.Z López, mi hermana. Te amo, tener un feliz cumpleaños, hermosa._

She felt tears falling on her face. No, she couldn't be weak, not here, not with this stranger. He didn't even know her name, not that she knew his. "_Sí, _Taz. That's my name… What's jours?"

"Up." She looked towards the sky, expecting to see more robots. He chuckled. "Lieutenant Up, of the Starship Rangers; it's my name."

"Never heard that one before." She smirked, rubbing tears from her eyes. He smiled at her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

"C'mon." They head out towards the hill; she limped slightly, wincing every now and then. "You gonna make it?" She glared at his and he felt his breath catch in his throat. Why, he didn't know. Her eyes were unreadable, but filled with something that almost seemed to burn him.

"I'm _fine._ I'm tough," she snarled; he chuckled.

"I'll say. You took down six or seven autobots with a _stick_," she grinned at this. But a mere few minutes later, 'Taz' was biting her lip to keep from crying out in pain, limping up the hill. Unfortunately for her, or possibly fortunately, he noticed. He was vaguely reminded of himself, and the Starship Ranger that had brought him to the academy.

Suddenly, she was in his arms again. "_¿Qué carajo? _What are jou doing?" she protested, weakly trying to get out of his arms, though her (most likely) broken rib was making it a bit painful to move.

"Stop," he ordered calmly, marching up the hill, "you're hurt yourself more." She sighed, giving up. It hurt too much to try.

Approaching the drop pod, he looked down at the little girl in his arms. Her dainty arms still around his next, big eyes closed and her face nuzzled against his chest. That same girl who was so badass enough to go kick robot ass in a party dress. He knew from that moment that his life was going to change for the better.


	2. A Lovely One

No team. He was returning to the ship with no team, and a little girl. He had lost ten good men, and was returning with a little girl. Oh, dead god have mercy, he was going to need it. What the hell was he going to do with her? She was only fifteen, three years too young to be a Starship Ranger. And either way, she needed to finish school and there was no way she's be able to make it into the Academy. She was, well, a _she!_ Admiral Jones strictly insisted on the Academy being boys only. Boys turned into men, tough sons-of-bitches men, well we could only hope they did. Nevertheless, with the amount of skill and determination showed back on Earth, she was obviously tougher than twenty of the candy-asses at the Academy put together.

"Drop pod docking in two minutes." Rang a robotic voice. Lieutenant Up looked down at the sleeping girl in his arms. Taz… such a strange name. Then again, he shouldn't be so hypocritical. He subconsciously traced a cut on her cheek with his thumb, wondering what would happen to her if the Admiral didn't let her join.

"Uhm, Taz?" he nudged, "Taz we're here. You have to get up now." He prodded her in the side with a calloused finger. With a cry of pain, she shot up, clutching her ribs.

"Da hell was dat for?" she scowled, breathing heavily.

"I needed to wake you up."

"_No hubo necesidad de hacerme daño_," she muttered, sliding into the seat next to him.

"We're gonna be at the ship soon. Can ya walk?"

"_Por supuesto! _I'm fine," she stood quickly, as if to prove it, only to sway, her knees giving out. Up caught her with ease. Taz raised her impossibly tiny head, grimaced, and shoved herself off him, plopping into a seat across the pod. Up sighed.

"Drop pod docking," rang the robotic voice. The two stood silently. Up grabbed his zapper and jacket, and turned to the door.

Up cleared his throat; Desk Lady, as Taz had creatively mentally named her, looked up and put on a sad smile, her eyes crinkling in the corner.

"Ah, Lieutenant. How many?"

"Just me."

"I see. And… her?" Desk Lady gestured lamely to the Latina who was hardly the height of Up's shoulder.

"Oh! Well she- I- the thing is- y'know what? She needs to get to the sick bay, **now,**" Up stammered. Desk Lady leaned over the marble desk, lowered her glasses, and scanned him in an x-ray fashion. When seemingly satisfied, she sat back whilst pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose.

"Yes. Yes I suppose she should. Go down that hall," she pointed down a hall on the left, "take the second right and it's at the end of the hall."

"_Gracias,"_ Taz muttered, not really meaning it. Watching her limp slightly down the hall, Desk Lady rounded on Up, clicking her tongue.

"Up, you brought her _on board_?"

"I had to!" he held his hands up. _I don't think she'd let me do otherwise._

"But she's _twelve!_"

"_Fifteen__. _And it's not your argument, Morrison. Let Admiral Jones know I'm on my way up." And with that he turned on his heel and marched up the staircase behind his.

She scrunched her face in concentration. '_You don't limp, you gordita poca mierda, you don't limp.' _ Nearing the end of the hall, she watched two boys practically fly across her line of vision. Taking a moment to make sure they'd passed, she turned the corner, just to have a body slam into hers. A reflex gasp escaped her lips as she, and the rude _chocho_, was thrown to the floor.

"Hey, watch where- oh." Slightly stunned, she saw a bright-green-eyed boy getting to his feet. She sat slowly, regaining her breath. He offered his hand, which she took reluctantly, and helped her to her feet. "You a'right?" He sounded so Irish she almost started seeing green. She waved off the thought as if swatting a fly, leaning against the wall, clutching her side. "No yer not. Yer bleedin'." Taz looked at her hand, which was coated with blood from her side, the thick cuts on her forearm, and felt blood trickle down her face. "I'll get cha to da sick bay."

"I'm fine." she mumbled, doubling-over with another jolt of pain. '_Eres _débil_, Taz, débil.'_

"Sure ya are," he smirked, wrapping his arm around her (impossibly tiny) waist and draping hers around his shoulders.

"Seriously, ese, I'm fine. I'm tough."

"Obviously. Ya look like ya put up one hell o' a fight. What happened?"

"_Maldito _autobots. _Mi familia, _gone. _Hijos de puta._" She blinked.

"I know what you mean." He sympathized, pointing to a long scar on his upper arm, partially hidden by hid sleeve. "Got this when I crashed through the floor o' me home. I'm Grint, by da way. Grint McKleith."

"Taz."

"Taz what?"

"Just Taz."

"Well, 'Just Taz', welcome to G.L.E.E. It's a shame you can't stay."

"Can't stay? What da hell are jou on about?"

"Well, da Admiral says boys only. Wouldn't let me sister come on board, and left 'er to da autobots." He sighed, shaking his head. "Nice dress, by da way." She tensed.

"I didn't _want_ to wear it. It was for _mi quienceañera._"

"_Quienceañera? _Like da birt'day?"

"_Sí._"

"Must've been one hell o' a party."

"Jou have no idea."

"So, fifteen, eh? Could've fooled me, shortie." She knew he was just joking, but when had that ever stopped her?

"_Escúchame_, jou piece of **shit**, just because I'm short doesn't mean I can't rip out your internal organs and turn dem into a hat! If Up hadn't brought me here, I'd be dead. But I'm not, so jou better watch jour back, ese." She steamed, shoving him far too lightly than she had intended. He held his hand up in mock surrender.

"Hey, I didn't mean it. But did ya really meet Lieutenant Up?"

"_Sí._" Taz tried to hold her head high as Grint pushed open the white double doors. Taz, temporarily blinded by the sheer surplus of white, clean, shiny white. Hundreds of beds, some occupied with soldiers, lined the room. When greeted by a nurse, she couldn't help but freely let her jaw drop.

"Grint, is this another one of-"

"No," Grint swatted at the idea, "this is Taz. Lieutenant Up brought her." The nurse stared Taz down with distain, as if mentally scrubbing off every particle of dirt with a chainsaw.

"Very well," she purred. "Get her to a bed and give her a gown. You should know where everything is by now." Grint nodded, guiding Taz to an empty bed.

"B-but she's a _gato! _A cat!" Taz stammered, throwing a glace over her shoulder.

"No, not a cat, she's a Sister of Plenitude. Alien, really, but they make fantastic nurses. Best in da galaxy. Now don't **stare**," he grabbed Taz's face and turned her attention to a small hospital bed and shoved a hospital gown into her hands, "and _don't_ purr, **ever**. They have claws." Grint faked a shudder before stepping back and drawing the curtains around her, leaving her in complete solitude.

"Lieutenant, whate_ver_ would possess you to bring a child on board, let alone a _girl?"_ Admiral Jones spat in distaste, leaning back in his big fancy chair in his big fancy office.

"Admiral, permission to speak freely?" Up inquired. Jones nodded once, grabbing a big fancy cigar and lighting it in one fluid motion. Up cringed at the smell, mentally pledging never to take up the nasty habit. "Sir, Taz has no one left. Her family was killed right in front of her face. But she's tough! She's really tough, saved my skin, and destroyed a handful of autobots with her bare hands. I don't see why she can't finish school and join the Rangers, she'd be an improvement."

"Because she's a _girl!_"

"With due respect, sir, so is your wife."

"True. But tell me, is she big and strong? Like a true Ranger?"

"Well, no, sir-"

"How tall?" Up raised his hand level to his shoulder; Jones laughed menacingly. "She is small and weak and-"

"**And** she saved my life! My whole team was slow and foolish and it got them _killed._ The recruits are___afraid of push-ups! _Literally, they start shaking. But this 'weak'" he finger-quoted, "little girl tore off an autobots head! She has more balls that my entire team did." Jones held his hand up, silently ordering Up to shut the hell up. He sucked slowly on his cigar, contemplating.

"Convince me."

"She would- I don't know- be a good influence. When those candy-asses at the Academy see how weak they really are, they'll train harder. Better Rangers, send fewer on missions, save money, right?" At this, Jones snapped his forward in his big fancy seat.

"YES!"

"Yes, sir?"

"Yes, she _could_ be useful that way, couldn't she?" Jones nodded to himself. "Yes. Fine, Up, I'll let her stay if she keeps her grades up. Keep her tough, I want to see people _cringe_ at her name. Until regular classes start again at the Academy she is _your_ responsibility, yours and only yours."

"Thank you, sir."Up saluted, relieved.

"No, thank _you_, Up. Dismissed." Up turned on his heel, crossing the big fancy office. "Lieutenant?" Up turned. "Did you bring her on board because you were reminded of someone?"

Up smirked. "Possibly, sir, possibly."

"McKleith?" Grint raised a hand to his jet black hair in a salute, albeit Up waved it off. "What are you doing here? Saving another one of your friends' victims?"

"No, not this time,sir," Grint stuttered. "I ran into Taz in the hallway, literally, and she says you know her." Up glanced behind the cadet, as if he expected Taz to be hiding behind him.

"And, uhm, where is she?"

"Oh! A Sister is taking care of her. From what I've 'eard, broken rib causing internal bleeding and a sprained ankle. They're doing some surg'ry now, but I suppose they'll be finishing soon, sir." Up felt something heavy settle uneasily in his stomach.

"Right, right," he muttered to himself as a Sister drew back the green curtain, furry face and all.

"Broken rib, internal bleeding, sprained ankle, took a nasty blow to the head, we're lucky she's conscious. Cuts and bruises but nothing that couldn't be fixed. She'll be right as rain in a few days. I'll let her leave Sunday morning if everything is alright. She'll be asleep within a few minutes, so make it quick. McKleith, she asked for you." The cadet slipped past Up, who scowled. Shouldn't he been the one to see her? After all, she wouldn't be here if he hadn't brought her.

But why? Why did he bring her here? He'd seen a hundred men die right before his eyes, every molecule of their bodies exploding faster than the speed of light, yet he couldn't leave her. He couldn't leave this little girl, swinging helplessly from a tree resembling a ragdoll. But why?

_Well she did save your life_, a voice in the back of his head piped. True as that was, it was still no true reason to bring her on board. She was his responsibility now, another burden on his shoulders, another thing weighing him down. Yet he adopted her onto the ship. _Just like that Ranger did with you. _Up blinked, taken aback at the realization hitting him in the face like a brick. That's right… All those years ago, that Ranger could've left him in his house, left him to burn to the ground like the rest of his life. That Ranger could have left him to die, screaming and choking on smoke. But look where he was now, a Lieutenant of the Starship Rangers and possibly the most feared person on board, besides the Admiral.

Lost in his thoughts, Up scarcely noticed the curtains opening. Only when Grint timidly poked Up on the shoulder was he driven out of his reverie. "Uhm, sir, I told 'er you were here and she wants you to come in."

Up entered the quarters and was taken aback with the sight in front of him. Gone was the girl of fury, the girl he had seen shred robots with her bare hands. She couldn't be the same girl. This girl looked broken and lost, swimming in a dead soldier's too-big pajamas, legs curled under her on a hospital bed. This girl was bandaged and _clean_, hair dripping from a decontamination shower. She couldn't possibly be the same girl who was so filled with rage and fury.

"Don't jou _dare_ pity me." Never mind.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Up chuckled, examining the bag of fluids an IV was dripping into her arm. "How are ya?"

"Jou saved my life." He let his gaze trail over her face, which was bandage-covered. "Why?" Startled, Up repeated the question. "_Sí, ¿por qué?_ Grint told me dat the Admiral wants _chicos_, not _chicas_, so what are jou goin' to do with me?" She huffed matter-of-factly.

"Well," he started, sitting on the edge of the bed that she hardly filled, "I talked to the Admiral-"

"_Continuar._"

"He figured you'd be a kick in the ass to the **half-fart** recruits we have. Y'know, bein' beat in combat by a… you."

"So, I'm in? I'll be going to school here and I could become a Starship Ranger?"

"When we get to the Academy, if you keep your grades up and fight real good and you'll be just fine." Taz looked uneasy.

"But, I don't know how to fight." It was all Up could do to refrain from laughing.

"Could've fooled me."

"Up, I street-fight. I don't," she circled her hands, struggling for words, "_lucha_ for real."

"Tell you what," Up poked her in the shoulder, "when you get out, I'll take you to the combat deck. You need to see what you're up against. Watch, observe, and practice in the gym." She smiled sadly. "Listen Taz," he placed his hand on her uninjured forearm, "I know how hard this is for ya-"

"I told jou not to pity me."

"But yer in good hands!"

"I _told _jou not to pity me!" Should he be taking orders from this minuscule girl?

"I'm not!" he held his hands up in defense. "I know how ya feel."

"NO!" she shoved him off, making as much as much room between them as possible. "Jou don't know! I've _never_ had any _amigos, ahora mi familia se ha ido también!" _She blinked, her eyes clouded with rage and disobedient tears leaking their way down her cheeks. The only words registering comprehendible being _amigos _and _familia, _his forehead creased in misunderstanding as Taz wiped her eyes_. _Up sighed, reminded briefly of his sister.

"McKleith?"

"What about him?"

"Well, isn't he your friend?"

"He's _simpatico,_ dat's all." Taz scowled. Up considered that for a moment before blurting,

"Well, you have me, don't you?"

"Jou?" No, he was going to be her commanding officer, her teacher. He couldn't be her friend. He needed to set that barrier now. He was the commanding officer, she was the cadet. That's all.

"Me." Up's grin faltered when Taz just stared blankly, silently. Up stood awkwardly. "Rest, I'll see ya tomorrow." He was closing the curtains when she called,

"Tanabeth!"

"What?"

"It's Tanabeth." She rubbed her arm shyly. "Tanabeth Angelina Zorro-Lopez. Tell no one_._"

"Tanabeth," Up said vacantly, a bit stunned that she trusted him so quickly. "Well that's a _fine_ name."

"Really?" she yawned, fighting the drugs in the IV.

"A lovely one."


	3. Chapter 3a Cries in the Night

Chapter three-

True to his word, his southern accepted word, Up visited Taz the next morning, bringing a maps of the ship and the Academy in his pocket. He grinned as her eyes lit up when he entered the room. He sat on the edge of her bed, pointing out rooms. Hers was to be a now-dead Sub-Lieutenant's; being that she was the only girl going to the Academy the Admiral thought this best. He directed her to the mess hall, rec room, combat deck, gym, his quarters, etc. She asked only one question, a question that startled him.

"A library?"

"_Sí_."

"But Taz, what do ya need a library for when we have computers?"

"To _read_," she drawled, as if explaining the obvious. Up shook his head, momentarily confused, nonetheless pointing out the semi-abandoned library.

Up patted her shoulder, standing up. "I'll see ya after dinner."

"A _girl? _Are you sure?"

"Onto the ship?"

"That's a stupid name."

"To the Academy?" whispers circled Up everywhere he went, but he plowed through his day stony-faced, determined. He'd take out his frustration on a punching bag later. Albeit the murmurs, his day was ordinary; breakfast, gym, lunch, combat deck, dinner.

Up sighed, entering the combat deck, staring longingly a ring. It had been months since he had been evenly matched and he was craving a good fight. Maybe Taz would challenge him, once she was trained up a bit. His thoughts wandered to the little Mexican girl sitting, most likely bored out of her mind, in a bed in the sick bay. She would be lonely, seeing as the other patients had checked out that morning. He chuckled to himself, thinking of how her eyes lit up, her hair a curly mess due to a fitful sleep. A Sister of Plenitude had told him that morning how she had tossed restlessly, muttering, prior to waking in tears and screams. He found himself wishing he could've been there to wake her from her nightmares. Shaking his head, Up shrugged off his jacket and headed towards a bag, cracking his knuckles.

"Let me out!" she screamed, struggling and crying.

"Please, you're hurting yourself," purred one of the three Sisters who were trying, unsuccessfully, to force her back into her bed.

"Let me out! I want to go home!" Taz cried, struggling to take in a breath. "_Yo quiero irme a casa!" _

Up, happily full from a large well-deserved dinner, was strutting down the hallway when he heard it; a familiar, demented scream. Doubling the speed in his step, he tried to make out what it was saying._ "¡Déjenme salir! Quiero a mi madre!"_ _Taz_. Pushing the doors open with a **bang**, he made his way to the struggling group. Gasping for air, pale and clammy, was Taz, shouting a hoarse incomprehensible stream of Spanish and English as three nurses struggled to restrain her.

"What the hell on going on here?" he barked. The empty room fell silent with the exception of Taz, whose screams had faded into pitiful whimpers, her attempts of escape weakening.

"Lieutenant, we are most sorry you had to see-"

"_I said,_ what's going on?" Up took an intimidating step forward, causing the nurses to cower.

"Lieutenant, patient o-ninety-six is going into a state of shock. We need her to lie down but she-"

"_Mi madre," _Taz gasped, struggling weakly.

"She won't lie down, sir. If she doesn't calm, she will suffer from a loss of oxygen and go into a coma." Up bent down, cupped Taz's chin and forced her to look him in the eyes.

"Taz, look at me," he breathed.

"_Quiero a mi madre."_

"_Taz," _she fell silent, shaking with each breath, "relax." They stood for a moment, their eyes bearing into each others, Taz breathing heavily, taking in oxygen like a drug. The Sisters slowly pulled her back into her bed, careful not to anger Taz.

"Thank you, sir. You are a miracle worker," the second sister praised, placing an oxygen mask over Taz's mouth. She still hadn't broken eye contact.

"Well it would look bad if the first girl allowed into the Academy in four-hundred years went into a coma on my watch." Up mumbled to himself, taking his usual seat on the edge of her bed. That was why he did it, right? The sisters bustled around her, muttering to each other.

"I'd say it was the hit of severe loss. Poor thing has nobody."

"With an extremely low blood sugar on top of it."

"You're telling me, she hasn't eaten since breakfast."

"Been staring out a porthole all day."

"Flicking that knife open and closed." _That_ caught Up's attention.

"What knife?" A sister handed him a switchblade from the metal bedside table, a very familiar switchblade. His. He traced the carvings on the handle, the words his grandfather had carved when it was his father's. _**Be strong.**_ Carved plain as day on the wooden hilt, his constant reminder of what he was fighting for. For whom he was fighting for.

"You gave everyone a bit of a fright last night," Up commented, pokerfaced. Taz tilted her head, a question in her eye.

"_¿Qué pasó anoche?_"

"You don't remember?" Taz shook her head, racking her brains. What happened last night? Did she say something stupid? She couldn't even remember going to sleep, funny enough.

"Maybe it's better if ya didn't." Taz, thoroughly bewildered, nodded slowly. "C'mon, you've been discharged. And I promised I'd take ya to the combat deck, didn't I?"


	4. Chapter 3b Brave Faces

"It's not as nice as the one at the Academy-"

"It's beautiful," Taz grinned, "as beautiful as something that smells like sweat and dirty socks could be." Up smirked, patting her on the back, and pointed to a cluster of shabby, wooden benches for her to sit on.

Taz sat there for hours on end for around a week, studying. She quickly picked up on individuals' quirks, mentally strategizing how she could use it against them in the future. Little things, easily overlooked by the average eye. 'Chunky Ginger', she had named him, had a stronger right arm than left. 'Creepily Muscular' was (obviously) strong, very strong, but a bit slow; key to that would be the elements of speed and surprise. 'Freakishly Thin' was very fast but all over the place, unable to control his flailing limbs as an attempt to ward off his opponent.

She absolutely did _not_ to watch Up in his white tank-top, shiny with sweat and flooring every and any opponent who dared to fight him. She did _not_ see the fierce glint in his eyes, she did _not_ notice how is muscles bulged when he was doing bench presses, she did _not_ see how he scrunched his brow in concentration when flipping nun-chucks. Well, that's what she would tell anyone who asked her.

But what she did notice was his slightly relayed reflexes, most likely from a blow to the head a while back. She made a mental memo to use the element of surprise against him, catch him off guard at all costs; _think outside the box_, she noted. She _also_ noticed how nobody ever wanted to fight with him, for good reason; how he stared longingly at the ring wringing his hands whenever he wasn't training. It was her sixth day on board when someone had noticed _her_, the little girl sitting on a bench with her hair pulled back in a white tank-top and a pair of shorts. 'Douchy', freshly defeated from a carefully observed spar with Up, had limped over to a bench, sitting down a few feet away from her.

"Hey," he mumbled without looking at her.

"Hi," she grinned. He did a double take.

"Who the hell are you?" Taz scowled, jutting out her jaw.

"Taz."

"Lieutenant Up's girl?"

"I'm not _anyone's_ _chica._ Who da hell are _jou_?" she crossed her arms, glaring pure fire at him.

"Ensign Barron Williams," Williams stuck out a calloused hand, which Taz unsuccessfully tried to crush. He laughed. "You're a tough little girl, aren't ya?"

"I'm fifteen, I'm not a little girl," she spat. He held up his hands in mock defeat.

"So, did Lieutenant Up really bring you onto the ship?"

"_Sí_."

"And you're really gonna be the first girl to go to the Academy in 200 years?"

"_Sí_."

"And are you really a Daughter of Eve from Neptune's moon Triton?"

"_S-qué_? Where da hell did jou hear dat?"

"The conversation between Up and the Admiral to get you into the Academy was a complete secret. So naturally, the whole ship knows."

"Well, da whole ship knows _wrong, idiota._" Crossing her arms, Taz turned back to watch the others fight. She felt a playful punch on the shoulder and shot a death glare that would someday be infamous.

"You know, sitting here and watching us fight won't do you much good. Go to the gym, nobody's really used it since the combat deck was put in." No duh! How could she be so _estúpida? _She had the layout of the ship _and_ the Academy memorized within the first hour of getting the maps, why didn't she think of putting it to use?Without a word, Taz rose and left, headed to the abandoned gym.

Everyone else had already left for dinner, but Up was determined to get to 500 chin-ups. Sweat was interfering with his grip and as soon as he achieved said goal, and he fell to the floor in a heap. Thankful no one had seen that, he got up and made his way to the benches. He sat for a moment, wiping sweat from his forehead with a towel when it hit him. Where was Taz? He glanced around the deck, in the hallway, even under the benches as if she'd be hiding there, becoming increasingly alarmed as he realized she wasn't there. Where could she have gone off to? The doors opened; he swung his head around, expecting to see the tiny Mexican face. His shoulders sagged.

"Lieutenant." Ensign Barron Williams saluted, which Up returned sloppily.

"Ensign."

"Looking for Taz?" Up sat up straight. Was it obvious?

"You know T- why would ya say that?" Williams chuckled.

"Lucky guess. I thought you would have realized she was missing ages ago, sir." Up shot an eyebrow into his sweaty hair-line.

"Ages? What the hell are you talking about?" he growled.

"She left a few hours ago, sir."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know if she's still there, but she headed off to the gym when I spoke to her earlier. Feisty one, she is, you have your work cut out for you." But Up was out the door before the ensign could finish his sentence, leaving him with his own words resonating through the silence and a knowing smile playing at his lips.

She couldn't help but let out a laugh as she soared through the air. After uncovering every single piece of deserted equipment in the gym, she had discovered a large, extremely bouncy trampoline. Still drenched with sweat, she flew through the air doing ariels, backhandsprings, butterflies and backflips, a smile plastered on her face. _Something having to do with being installed in space must've fucked with the trampoline's bounce-factor_, she noted as her feet reached somewhere between four and five feet from the ground on each bounce. Shaking her bangs out of her face, Taz ran, preparing to do another complex series of twists. She launched and was in mid-spin when,

"Taz?" she landed on her ankle with a painful 'oof!' Planning to curse whoever had interrupted her into oblivion, Taz turned to the door where a familiar bulky silhouette was standing. Light from the hall flooded the strategically dimly lit gym. She knew that voice.

"Up?" she called, rubbing an aching, recently-healed ankle.

"Taz, why the hell didn't you tell me you were leaving?" he said, grabbing a roll of bandage from a box and making his way over to the floor trampoline.

"Sorry, _dad_." Up sat next to her on the trampoline. She made a grab for the roll, but he raised it out of reach. Her shoulders sagged in defeat; he took this as an 'ok' and took her ankle in his hands and began wrapping it.

"Damn it Taz, how are your feet so small?" Unsure if she should be complimented or insulted, she settled for the latter and shot him a glare so furious that almost made him wince. Almost.

"Maybe jou just have _pies de grasa_." Up grinned. They sat in silence, Taz breathing heavily, Up wrapping her impossibly tiny ankle with gauze. Taz studied Up's hands. They were littered with scars ranging in size. Calluses sat on the tips of each finger. A tattoo, a small red star, was almost hidden on the outside corner of his left wrist.

Finished, he set her foot down gently, as if it was going to break into a million different pieces if he didn't treat it like a piece of glass. "What did jou do to Williams' leg today?" Up shot her a questioning glance. "He was limping when he came to talk to me after lunch. You were the last one to fight him, so what did jou do?" Up chuckled lightly.

"You noticed?" she nodded. "You're brilliant."

"No, I'm just exceptionally perceptive." Taz shoved him lightly.

"I'll teach you one day."

"Teach me how to take a knife from someone's pocket and not have dem notice?" Up's hand shot to his pocket where sure enough, his trusty switchblade was missing. He turned back to Taz, who was flipping it shut, a malicious glint in her eye and a smile playing at her lips. She held it out for him to take, but he pressed it back into her hand. She stared at him incredulously, her mouth in a round 'o'. He nodded with a glint of self-confusion in his eye. This knife was his personal symbol of strength, his reason for fighting. Was he really going to give it to her? She was almost a complete stranger, beside the fact that she really wasn't. Did she really need the strength more than he did? Could he find something else to drive him to fight as hard as he did? His eyes raked her face; he nodded. She stared at the switchblade, tracing the old carvings with her thumb.

She launched at him, wrapping her skinny arms around his neck. Up, unprepared and caught off-balance, wrapped his arms back around her instinctively, leaning back. She squeezed him tightly, breathing in his scent of spearmint toothpaste and sweat, murmuring "_Gracias_, Up," into the crook of his neck. Up grinned childishly, slightly dazed. She untangled herself from him and he found himself missing the extra body heat. Because it was cold in the gym, of course. He glanced at Taz, who was playing with the hem of her shirt. She glanced up, and he suddenly became very interested with the gym equipment. That reminded him…

"To fight."

"_Qué?"_

"That's what I'm going to teach you. To fight." Her eyes lit up, causing a smile to play on Up's lips.

"_¿En serio?_ _Cuando_?"

"They say there is no better time than the present, so I guess we're behind schedule." He stood, pulling Taz up with him.

"Jou're going down." He laughed.

"Don't get cocky; I could beat you any time, any place." She raised an eyebrow smirking; he had walked straight into her trap.

"Oh really?" she rolled her 'r', bouncing lightly on the trampoline. Realizing his mistake, he started spluttering.

"No, I didn't mean-"

"Jou _said_ any time, any place. Time, now. Place, _aqui," _she sassed; Up struggled to find a way out of it, but under her smirking stare could find none. Sighing, he reluctantly got onto a battle pose; hands like a boxer, legs apart, knees bent. Taz jumped once happily, making Up wobble on the unsteady terrain, and slipped the knife into a pocket. Being 'exceptionally perceptive', she noticed his balance wavering. "Just don't break me," she warned, mimicking his pose.

They circled, bouncing slightly, never once breaking eye contact. Finally, Up lunged; Taz leaned back into a speedy, violent backbend kickover. Up, who had been expecting her to duck, got a face full of foot. A loud slapping sound echoed through the hollow gym. Up recovered quickly enough to see Taz running at him top speed. Already knowing he was going down, he grabbed her elbows and brought her with him. She was on top of him, he was on top of her, she was on top, he was- they were rolling around on the trampoline. They came to a halt as Taz rolled on top of him, straddled his torso, and slammed her hands on his chest. Her hair had escaped from its hair-tie and was framing her face in soft curls, both breathing slightly heavily. Taz counted to three before slowing rolling off him.

"Told jou," she smiled coyly. Up didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Eight months." Taz turned to look at him as he sat up. "It's been _eight months_ since I've been floored. And I just got floored by a freaken' _butterfly!_" Up was shot a curious face. _Taz_ and _butterfly_ were two words that didn't go together often.

"I guess I had a home _ventaja_," Taz shrugged, getting to her feet. "Back in Mexico, Myria and I-" she broke off her sentence, shook her head and continued in a slightly smaller voice. "We had to do something to keep ourselves busy so we saved up enough for a trampoline. Took two years but we did it."

"It's a good thing to have in your back pocket," Up added as they made their way to the door.

"Up?" she called, standing a few feet behind him as he stood in the doorway, sheepishly rubbing her arm and looking at her feet, not something she did often. "That fight wasn't fair."

"Of course it was, Taz."

"No, it wasn't. It was on a _gran trampolín_, and I tricked you into it." Up shrugged. "That wasn't even fighting, that was, _yo no se_, bouncing with violence! If I want to learn how to fight _correctamente_, I can't rely on having a trampoline."

"So…?"

"So, jou are going to come here at 2100 hours and teach me to actually fight."

"Don't kill me, but go your hardest."

"Are you sure, Taz?"

"Oh, just do it."

She was fast, light on her feet. She could flit around you like no one's business. But she was choppy, wild, surprising. Jabs, uppercuts, roundhouses, hooks; she blocked them all with increasing difficulty until finally he got one in. Up landed a punch, knocking the wind out of her and sending her to the ground. Up swallowed his guilt as she gasped for breathe, climbing to her feet. "_Bueno_."

"Alright, Taz, now you try and hit me."

It took another week of late night training sessions and a lot of sweating for Taz to get a hit in. It was stronger than he thought it would be, leaving a small bruise for the next few days; a perfect roundhouse to his thigh. "Good, now do it again." As she improved during the next few weeks, never missing a session, he went harder on her. Albeit that, she was progressing immensely, getting in more jabs and kicks every night. Maybe it was the fact that she was almost always in the deserted gym, climbing the MtEverClimb, pumping iron, hundreds of situps a week, or flipping on the trampoline that gave her such strength and drive. She only left for meals, though she usually never showed for lunch, preferring to keep training rather than lounge about with a crew of smelly, slightly perverted Rangers.

Up was fascinated by her. So much strength and anger bottled up into such a tiny person. She glared pure fire, fought with a rage he had hardly ever seen before, and knew most of his tricks already. She anticipated his combos, dodging them with ease, and used his bulk against him. And one fateful Tuesday night, she did it again.

They stood there for a moment, leaning against each other's hands raised over their heads, breathing heavily, eyes locked. Something sparked behind Taz's eyes and she moved with astounding fluidity. She jumped, propelling herself over his head and using his hands as a balance. She released him, planted her feet on the ground, and shoved his back as hard as she could. Before he knew it, he was face down on the mat. Taz placed her foot on the small of his back, smiling triumphantly. He tapped out and she released him, holding out her hand to pull him up. He took her hand and yanked her to the mat beside him.

She looked at him and giggled; Up chuckled. The laughs came over like an epidemic, a wave of release from all the stress that had been building for that last few weeks. They sat there, laughing for no reason, laughing at nothing, laughing just because they could. He'll always remember her laugh, the way it sounded like little bells chiming on Christmas morning, the way that when she laughed, she couldn't stop until she was nearly crying. How when she laughed, her entire tiny body shook. How tears leaked out of the corners of her big, brown eyes. Not that he was watching her, of course.

"It's time, isn't it?" Up said emotionlessly, sitting on the edge of her bed that terribly grey morning, half an hour before she was to leave for the Academy. Before she was to leave him. Taz smiled sadly.

"I'm never going to see jou again, am I?" It was more of a statement than a question; she refused to meet his eyes.

"Hey, you never know. We'll be here for a long time, we might see each other." Taz nodded slowly, biting her lip. "Come 'ere." He held out his arms, which she dove into, wrapping hers around his neck. He held her there, squeezing her tightly as if that meant she'd never have to leave him. He hated to admit it, but was really going to miss her presence. She muttered something Spanish into his neck.

"_Voy a echar de menos_, Up." Up, only knowing twenty simple Spanish phrases, didn't understand. But he didn't care. He pressed his slightly chapped lips to the top of her head.

"Promise me you'll keep yer grades up. Fight hard, I want you to be the best damn cadet that Academy has ever seen. When you're not on the combat deck, I want you to be studying. When you're not studying I want you to be in the gym. When you're not in the gym, I want you to be on the combat deck. Understand?" She nodded against him.

"_Starship 11C-4 docking at Galactic League of Extraterrestrial Explorations Academy Base 3," _a monotone voice informed. Taz pulled back, smiling sadly.

"Don't worry about me at all; just keep being the tough son-of-a-bitch jou are." And with that, she left. Up put his head in his hands, remembering why he always put on a dead goddamned brave face. He remembered why he tried not to make friends with anyone. He remembered why he kept everyone at arm's length. He remembered why he hadn't shared any laughs with anyone.

So he never had to feel like this.


End file.
